


SPACE GHOSTS COAST TO COAST

by middleearthquake



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Crack, F/M, Force Ghosts, Gen, M/M, Multi, Spoilers, angry haunting, non-canon compliant, non-canon force ghosts, nonsense basically, this is not how the force works
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-11 13:03:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5627575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middleearthquake/pseuds/middleearthquake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SPOILERS</p><p>kylo ren desperately wanted DARTH VADER to teach him the ways of evil.  what he gets is anakin skywalker, angriest (and most dramatic) space ghost, ready and willing to aggressively haunt leia's stupid tantrum-throwing child away from the dark side.  obi-wan mostly comes along to gloat, because there's nothing quite like watching karma unfold in front of you.   </p><p>(meanwhile, poe dameron, used to being the most reckless guy in the room, is beginning to realize how very screwed he is.  because finn is just figuring out how to be a person instead of a stormtrooper, and rey is realizing just how much she loves having a family, and keeping up with the two of them is gonna give him a heart attack.  it's a good way to go, don't get him wrong.)  </p><p>least canon-compliant anything, probably?  mostly me just entertaining myself.  set post-movie.  real star wars fans will probably be appalled at how i don't understand (IMPORTANT X, Y, & Z) star wars canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kylo Ren lies in his own chamber, oozing on his bandages and hating himself because _that girl_ is still out there somewhere. She escaped, yes, and that rankles, but what's worse that the injuries is thinking about _her_. She thinks she's won, her and that traitorous defective stormtrooper. They think that they've _beaten him_. They'll see. He'll recover, he's healing, and when he's stronger he'll hunt the both of them down and pay them back in kind. It's what Darth Vader would've done. He's furious and too weak to do anything but rot in his own anger, too unfocused to use it to fuel his body, so he lies down, sweating into the bedding, imagining the day when everyone in the galaxy will whisper his name in awe and fear. 

That's when someone starts shouting from very far away. sounds like some _hick_ is trying to scream through an airlock, and Kylo Ren's first thought is _hux. i will choke everyone involved here -_ but then he focuses on what the hick is shouting (surprisingly difficult, with that accent) which is "...did you make MY DAUGHTER CRY, NOW THAT SMUGGLER WHO KNOCKED HER UP IS HERE, RUINING MY AFTERLIFE." 

"I quite like Han," someone else says. "I see why Leia was so fond of him, poor dear." 

" _fond_ ," the hick scoffs. "yeah, I'll bet you're _fond_ of him, all he does is yell at me _too_ , even though this one is _not my fault_." The voices are getting clearer, which is definitely not a good sign. Either Kylo's hallucinations are growing, or there are two people in the room with him, and that should be impossible. "and ANOTHER THING!" the hick continues, suddenly very loud and excruciatingly clear, even though he still sounds like he's rolling marbles in his mouth: "I HATED wearing that HELMET." 

When Kylo opens his eyes, the last thing he expects are two...blue...people. No - hallucinations, definitely hallucinations, because when he reaches with the Force, ready to get a handle on one or either of them and _make them explain what they're doing here_ , there's...nothing. Nothing to grab, at least, and reaching out feels a little like trying to stick the Force down his own throat and a little like the dazzle of bright sunlight on moving water. 

There's an old one and a young one, human men, and they're both blue. They look a little like recordings, but there's no droids in the room - the last time he'd woken up, he'd smashed the arm off of at least one of the medidroids for suggesting that the damage to his spine might be permanent if he didn't take care. 

"Ben Solo," the old man says, in his crisp old-fashioned accent. He's looking at Kylo with disturbing amounts of pity, and it makes him want to _scream_ \- even his hallucinations think he's useless, pathetic, _second-best_. "You're awake. Finally. Meet Anakin Skywalker." 

The blue hillbilly sneers. "He doesn't give a shit about Anakin Skywalker." He lifts both arms, sarcastically, and twirls in front of Kylo Ren. "Darth Vader," and when he smirks it's furious and exhausted. "You've been calling me for months, _now_ you can see me. It figures. I'd say if you want to grow stronger in the Force, channel all your rage to destroy everyone who killed your parents, but - oops! - it might be a little late for that." He smiles, bright and blinding, so _young_ , Kylo thinks, this angry young man from some Outer Rim dirtheap can't possibly be _Darth Vader_ , last and greatest of the Sith. This can't be right. Darth Vader himself tried to kill Luke Skywalker; _he_ was never held back by foolish sentimentality. This can't be real. "Not what you expected? Look! Look at what the Dark Side'll give you!"

It's not really a surprise when the hallucination changes; his face warps, shaking with that alien blue light, and an old and feeble man, bloated and blue-white like a drowned corpse, missing a chunk of his lower jaw, glares down at Kylo. It's a hallucination, it can't possibly need to breathe, but that doesn't stop it from gasping for the air to snarl "look, look at all this _power_ , you kriffing -"

"What," Kylo manages. Talking hurts, hurts enough to bring his body roaring back to life: he's starving and aching and cold, colder than he's been in a long time. Breathing hurts. The blue hallucinations get eaten up in the wash of _pain_ that snarls out from his side and back.


	2. Chapter 2

Poe keeps reminding himself to take it easy with Finn. Spends a lot of time telling himself that Finn grew up a _stormtrooper_ , that the guy didn't have a _name_ until a couple of months ago, and that Finn's gotta be five or ten years younger than him anyways. He needs time to heal, sure, but he needs time to figure out who he is and what the fuck's going on. He probably needs some time to get an idea of himself; he landed at the Resistance base with a name and a jacket, and both of those things came from Poe. Guy probably wants some time to breathe, get his shit together. Poe doesn't want – 

\- well. Scratch that. Poe _wants_ , that's for damn sure: he wants to hold Finn's big hand, sweaty with nerves, and he wants to throw an arm over Finn's shoulders and take him out in an X-wing, really show him what Poe can _do_. He wants to watch Finn shoot down tie fighters and work as part of a squad – Poe's squad, if he's honest. He wants Finn on his squad and he wants Finn in his gunner's chair and he wants –

– Poe wants a lot of things. It'd be easier if Finn wasn't such a good man, a _sweet _man, goddamnit.__

He might be a cocky asshole, but he's got manners – he's seen the way Rey and Finn look at each other since Rey came back, Skywalker on her heels, and it was hard to tell who they were all cheering for. Ever since then, though, nobody says anything, but Rey and Finn, they sit shoulder to shoulder in the mess. 

Which is why he really isn't expecting to be woken up at three AM a couple of weeks after Finn gets released from medbay. (Again.) At first it sounds like an alarm – there's a lot of _fucking shouting_ \- right outside his quarters. 

Poe's been working with the Resistance long enough that “probably an alarm” is enough to get him a) on his feet, b) both feet mostly in his boots, and c) definitely wearing pants as he d) charges through his door, still trying to parse _what the fuck's happening_ and where the shouting is coming from. He doesn't really wake up until he runs face-first into Finn's really unfairly broad chest and _that's_ unexpected enough that - 

\- that he nearly falls down, when he hears Rey laughing. 

She catches him before he can eat it in the hallway, thankfully, but it's still pretty close. And that doesn't answer the problem of what the hell is going on exactly, anyways. There's gotta be a way to ask that without – without sounding like he's anyone's dad, for crying out loud. 

“What,” he tells them. 

“We are making pancake,” she says, patting him seriously on the shoulder. He's not going to wince, he's _absolutely_ not gonna flinch, not in front of her or Finn, but goddamn, she's _strong_. “Many, many pancakes – Poe! Did you know? It's not just reconstituting things, it's _cooking_!” 

Oh god. 

Oh god, someone fed them _alcohol_. 

“There are so many _kinds_ ,” Finn says. “Jessika showed us how to make some and we've invented -” he waves a hand, vaguely; Rey catches it in midair. Their fingers tangle together. Poe is going to murder whoever gave them booze. “We invented more! Now there's too much to eat. So we thought we'd come get you.” 

Oh god, Finn's doing that thing. That thing where he smiles and it looks...really. Good. 

“You look really tired,” Rey observes. 

“It looks good on you,” Finn decides, and _oh no_ , why is this happening? "Your hair looks good like that." 

"Yes yes we know," Rey says, clutching Poe by the elbow. "We _all_ know, Poe has the best hair. Pancakes!" 

“It's what happens when you get woken up in the middle of the night by delinquents.” Poe says, slowly. “I'll let you feed me, though, c'mon.” 

“My sweet one is the best,” Rey says, leaning in close enough that he can smell the soap from her shower and the sweet haze of alcohol on her breath. “Finn puts too much salt on his cakes. And an egg.” 

** 

It's probably the ungodly combination of all the pancakes, but that night, Poe has one of the _weirdest_ dreams of his life. 

The angry blue man with the Outer Rims accent and the old fashioned turn of phrase growls “you're responsible for the girl, now. Sniffing around her? Fine, but if she's hurt, you'll answer to _me_ -” 

“Don't forget Finn,” an old man – also blue - suggests, like he thinks this is funny. 

“Who?” 

“The stormtrooper, Anakin.” 

“I don't give a shit about a _stormtrooper_ -” and never mind that this is a dream, Poe's already standing up and ready to fight, because _Finn_ is one of the best men he knows and so what, it's just a dream, nobody's talking shit about Finn while he's around. 

“Anakin,” the old man says, surprisingly gently. “If Rey's worth threatening people for, so is Finn.” 

“Fine,” the blue ghost growls. “Fine. I. If _either_ of them get hurt, I'll disembowel you.” 

It'd be a more convincing threat if _Anakin_ over there didn't look so uncertain, but Poe's comfortable with himself: he can handle this aspect of his subconscious. So he's protective of Rey, a little more protective of Finn: well, that's not new information, is it? 

“You might try _asking_ him for help, instead of threatening to disembowel the poor boy,” the old man says, mildly. 'It would be a kind thing to do." 

Boy! _That's_ enough of that; Poe can handle the weird threats coming from his subconscious, and the not-so-startling realization that yeah, he cares (more than he should) about Finn _and_ Rey, but he won't be sassed in his own dream. He's ready to tell the old man that, too, because Poe can respect his elders but he believes in honesty, except the dream changes on him, as dreams do, and he's suddenly in an X-wing trying to navigate a miserable atmospheric landing. 

He doesn't remember the dream when he wakes up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "pancake," in this case, being stand in for "that one food that can be sweet or savory and is quick and easy to make"


	3. Chapter 3

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO THAT DROID," the ghost screams. 

Kylo Ren can't think of anything to say. It'd been a brief flash of temper, a bubbling frustration with his own recalcitrant body and Hux's smug face, and the droid had been the first thing to hand. It _hovered_ , too careful, cloyingly close to sympathetic. He hadn't even been _angry_ for more than a few seconds; it certainly wasn't enough that he would've expected to see this hallucination of _Darth Vader himself_ , snapping and staticky in the Force, curled protectively around a mere M1D9. It wasn't even a particularly useful model of medidroid. 

"Now you've done it," the old man says. He sighs, squinting at Anakin Skywalker, who's running the simulation of hands soothingly over the droid's cracked core. "Oi! _Old man_ indeed. You were named after _me_ , Ben Solo, and it'd do you good to remember it."

"This droid didn't _do_ anything to you, what's wrong with you, sack of bantha shit! Get me that plasma torch.” 

Kylo Ren can honestly say he never once in his life expected to watch the ghost of Anakin Skywalker crouch on the bare floor of his quarters, crooning over a smashed ten-year-old _droid_. _He was weak after all,_ he thinks. 

“ _My_ lightsaber wouldn't come when you called it, though,” Skywalker, Skywalker the _nerfherder_ says, calmly, from the floor. “Where's the plasma torch?”

Power sizzles under his skin; he can't control it, knows he won't be able to manage anything fine, but Kylo Ren knows how to make a point. He won't be spoken to like this, not by a man long dead and defeated. _This_ was what he looked up to? Snoke was right, he thinks; they can't afford to look to the past, not when the future looms so bright. He'll become what Darth Vader was _meant_ to be, what Darth Vader _could've_ been if he hadn't been so weak. 

The casing of the plasma torch squeals in protest before it explodes, scattering shards of plastisteel and chewed-up gears across the floor. 

The blue ghost of Anakin Skywalker jerks, startled, before turning to stare open-mouthed in exasperation. It's not not half as infurating as when the old man – Kenobi, he must be Kenobi, one of the last of the Jedi wiped out by the Empire, and good riddance, _good riddance_ to all of them – starts to laugh. 

“How _dare_ you, _I will not be mocked_!” 

They ignore him! Him! The impudence, the sheer _gall_! 

“I remember a certain padawan on Alsion-4,” Kenobi says, through his _chuckles_. 

Skywalker's scowl has begun to twist, apparently all unwilling, into a reluctant smile. “I put it back together!” 

How can this _be_? It's not right, it's not right that they of all people should - should come back, after dying so long ago, to _laugh_.

"Shut UP!"

The effort of shouting sends him into a coughing fit. Worse - worst, perhaps - is that by the end of it, Hux's precise, irritated tone crackles through the speaker by the locked door. 

"Of course. Shall I send another droid? Your...conversation...with the current model seems to have less than positive results."

"Do not! Send! Another droid!" Skywalker hisses. Kylo doesn't know why he bothers to modulate his tone; he's harder to understand, whispering, and it's clear that whatever he is, malignant ghost or malignant figment of the imagination, Hux certainly can't perceive him. "You will fix! this! droid! before you smash up another one in some tempaah tantrum!"

He doesn't know why _Kenobi_ looks so smug, at this point, but it's another sign that these are ghosts, not hallucinations.


	4. Chapter 4

“Rey. What _is_ all this? No wonder it smells.”

“Yours,” she says, briefly, nodding to the pile of dehydrated rations. “That's Finn's, don't worry, I have enough for all of us. Just.” 

Heroes and aspiring Jedi-to-be don't squirm, of course, but she won't meet his eyes, stares into the bottom of her locker. 

“Rey, you -” _Finn_ meets Poe's eyes, and gives him a commiserating stare of horror. “You can't get _caught_ with this, Rey, we have to put it back, what if someone's seen you -”

“I mean,” Poe agrees. “The _smell_! Yikes. You _sleep_ here! I mean, these are _not_ meant to last this long; I'll show you where they keep the extended-shelf-life stuff.”

Finn stares at him in what looks suspiciously like horror, which Poe gets – extended-shelf-life rations are _awful_. Hell, Poe once spent two weeks eating nothing but vacuum-sealed three-year rations developed specifically for Twil'th (it was that or starve, and he hopes to god that Jessika never thinks to tell _that_ story to Rey or Finn, because he showed up back on base dehydrated and – to be frank – so constipated that he'd needed to see a base doctor.) 

“Don't _touch_ that,” Rey growls, and that's enough to bring Poe back to attention. Finn has an encyclopedic knowledge of specific systems, but he's also the guy who was ready to shove his hand down the exhaust pipe of a running engine he didn't recognize. Rey's good at catching him before he does anything stupid, but this - 

“Hey, if Rey wants to fill her locker with rations and – and t'lang, holy shit, how many bottles of t'lang do you _have_ in there? Is that why we're running low in mess? - I mean, that's her business, Finn,” Poe finishes, a little lamely. 

Damnit, Jessika's been complaining that the kitchen's been stingy with t'lang – which is funny, considering Rey's got seven bottles squirreled away in her personal locker. 

“Okay,” Finn says. He's gone a little wild-eyed. Poe can't exactly blame him; if Jessika gets the idea that _anyone's_ been hoarding t'lang, god help them all; she's best friends with Ketina, who works the laundry, and once you're on Ketina's bad side, good luck getting any of your socks back. _Ever_. “Okay. I can – I can distract anyone coming down the hall, we just need to – we can throw it in the incincerator, no one needs to know -”

“NO ONE IS THROWING AWAY MY FOOD,” Rey interrupts, at surprising volume. 

Which seems a little...well. 

Everyone's gotten very upset, suddenly. 

Poe isn't quite sure why.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where I picked up the idea, but I'm willing to fight people on the idea that Anakin Skywalker (and Rey, and Luke Skywalker) all have thick accents. from growing up in the boonies, y'know?


End file.
